


Is 5' 2" short? (a colection of Daria shorts)

by Zetor



Category: Daria (Cartoon)
Genre: AU, Challenge Response, Cutting, F/F, F/M, Ficlet Collection, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-25
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-03 09:05:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 7,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5284865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zetor/pseuds/Zetor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of short stories, scenes, and drabble less than 1000 words spread across several genres. A few personal ideas as well as many proposed by others.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sick

7/1/15. Written in response to Brother Grimace's "The First Ten Minutes" challenge on PPMB.

* * *

A dull throbbing in her head pulled Daria from her sleep. She rolled around in her sweat soaked sheets trying to find a comfortable position and fall back asleep, but had no luck. As she tried to sit up, a wave of nausea hit and she quickly rolled over and emptied what little food she'd managed to eat into a waste bin next to her bed.

Jake dashed into the room, panic on his face. "Daria are you-" He noticed the full waste bin "Eww."

"Sorry I can't vomit up something more pleasant," Daria said, wiping her mouth with a tissue and throwing it into the trash. Her voice was a low croak, lacking its usual edge

"Aw kiddo, that's not what I meant. How are you feeling? I mean besides the, uh..."

Daria rolled onto her back and stared up at her ceiling. "Well, I just got woken up by a throbbing headache, even _trying_ to move exhausts me, and I'm sweating like a politician hooked up to a lie detector. All in all, pretty crappy."

"Well good ol' dad is here to help. Hmm, I guess first I better get _this_ out of here," he said, gingerly grabbing used waste bin and carrying it out of the room.

After a short wait, he returned with a freshly lined bin, a glass of water, and a couple of Advil. He set the bin down and helped Daria sit up to take the medicine.

Propping his daughter up on some pillows, Jake asked, "Do you want to watch some TV?"

Daria shook her head, regretting the gesture as soon as she made it, her head pounding. "No, too loud," she said weakly.

"Okay. I'm gonna go get you a cold washcloth for your head. Do you feel up to trying to eat some crackers?"

Daria almost shook her head again, then stopped herself and managed to say, "Not yet."

Jake nodded and smiled warmly. "Alright, I'll be right back. If you need me just ring the bell," he said before leaving the room again.

Her dad was off in his own world most off the time, but he really did care and always came through when it counted. As her eyes grew heavy and she drifted mercifully back to sleep, Daria smiled.


	2. Like No One's Watching

7/14/15.

* * *

  **2:02 pm**  
Jane sprinted up the stairs and down the third story hall. She skidded to a stop in front of her class, barely managing to miss bumping into a large group of students from her class. Pushing through the crowd, she saw the note taped to the door.

'Professor Shelby's 9:00, 11:30, 2:00, 4:30 canceled'

 **2:18 pm**  
Daria had the apartment to herself, maybe the whole complex. It was time. She started what had become a ritual on these rare occasions. First, she checked to make sure the door to the apartment was locked. Next, the thick curtains were pulled shut. Then, she went into her room and retrieved a box from the back of her closet and brought it into the living room.

 **2:23 pm**  
Jane stepped off of the bus into the cold winter air and looked around. There were usually a bunch of kids running around when she got home, but at this time of day the whole area seemed quiet and deserted. She shrugged and started the short walk home.

 **2:25 pm**  
Daria finished setting everything up and grabbed the mic, wondering again why this was so damn relaxing. She punched in the number for the song she wanted, then stood up and took off her glasses. She closed her eyes and let the intro to the song pour over her.

 **2:26 pm**  
Jane fished her keys out of her pocket an unlocked the door to the apartment. As soon as she cracked the door she was assaulted with sound. Carefully opening it further, she couldn't believe what she saw. Her roommate, Daria Morgendorffer, was dancing around their living room wildly, waving her hair around, and _singing_. With a growing grin, Jane pulled out her phone and began recording as her friend perform a unique rendition of Madonna's "Material Girl".

As Daria finished, breathing hard from the exertion, Jane started clapping. "Very nice. Thinking of trying out for _American Idol_?"

Daria remained silent. Even with her face turned away, Jane could tell it was red from just looking at her ears.

"Could you do some Michael next? Maybe 'Thriller'?"

Daria turned around, pounding the microphone into her empty palm as she walked towards her roommate, and asked, "How about 'Beat It'?"


	3. Decisions

7/18/15. This was written in response to GlitterShrooms "A Scene and Its Song" challenge on the PPMB.

* * *

 Mack and Jane are kissing each other in a tight embrace behind a utility building. Jane pulls away from the kiss, still in Mack's arms. She looks down, a guilty expression on her face.

"Mack, you have to tell her; I can't keep going like this. It was fun at first, but now..."

Mack's clearly conflicted, guilt, frustration, and fear play across his features. He looks down and tries to catch Jane's eye.

"I know. It's just, it's complicated. We've been together a long time. There's history there, and everyone expects so much of us."

Jane pulls herself from Mack's arms. Her eyes are dewy with held back tears, but her voice is fiery with anger.

"History? Screw history! You either don't love her anymore or you don't love me. You can't have it both ways. You have to choose."

**_Gaslight Anthem's cover of "9 Crimes" starts._ **

Mack watches as Jane storms off. After she rounds a corner he walks off in the opposite direction. His face is vacant as he wanders aimlessly across the front lawn of the school. A few guys from the team run up and say hi, he greets them on auto pilot, clearly not paying attention.

He comes to rest with his back against the school, watching the students in their various cliques congregating on the grass. After a moment Jodie walks out of the building he's leaning against, carrying a tall stack of flyers. He starts to move towards her, but she doesn't notice him and he loses his nerve.

He watches as Jodie walks around the lawn, going from group to group with her best fake smile on. His expression is complicated; there's guilt, but also longing and sadness. He pounds the rough brick wall with his fist in frustration and pushes off the wall, heading for Jodie.

"Hey."

Jodie turns around from handing out a flier to a group of students. She gives Mack a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"Hey. I thought you were busy today."

Mack's body tenses up. He scratches the back of his head.

"Yeah, my plans kind of fell through. Do you wanna go get some pizza?"

Jodie gives him a curious look, but nods.

"Sure, just let me finish handing these out."

Mack nods, and stands there waiting. He watches Jodie hand out the fliers, shifting his attention to Jane when he notices her and Daria cutting across the courtyard on their way home. He looks back and forth between the Jodie and Jane clearly conflicted.


	4. Coloring Highland

8/6/15. This was based on a very interesting coloring book someone posted online.

* * *

 Jane sighed in boredom. The Highland Middle School offices were as bland as the rest of the town. She didn't understand why she had to move here; she and Trent had been fine. Sure, they missed a meal occasionally, but that was way better than being stuck in Middle of Nowhere, Texas.

The door swung open, interrupting her thoughts. A teacher led in a small brunette girl about her age wearing an oversized tan jacket and thick glasses. "You know, if you just worked with the other students we wouldn't have to keep coming here." The girl just slumped down into the chair next to Jane, like she'd done it a hundred times before. The teacher sighed and shook her head, handing a piece of paper off to the secretary and leaving.

Once she was gone, Jane leaned over and whispered, "So, what are you in for?"

The girl just stared forward.

"C'mon, I could use some conversation. I've already counted the tiles on the floor three times."

"Really? How many?" the girl asked sarcastically.

"Sixty-seven," Jane answered, "if you don't count the missing one by the door."

The girl turned to face Jane. "Well, that proves you know how to count, which puts you above most of the students here."

"At least my math grades will go up, I guess that's one good thing about moving to this stupid town," Jane said bitterly, thinking of home and Trent.

"Where'd you move from?"

"I used to live in Lawndale, up in Maryland, until—" Jane stopped herself, she didn't want to be known as that weirdo whose parents abandoned her again. "Now I live with my grandma."

The girl looked like she was going to ask something, but instead said, "My condolences, I imagine anywhere is better than Highland."

Jane smirked. "Well, Lawndale is, so you're probably right. My name's Jane, by the way. Jane Lane."

"Daria Morgendorffer."

"So, Daria, why did a perky girl like you get sent to see the councilor?"

"Group project. I refused to let the _group_ take credit for _my_ work," Daria explained, anger creeping into her voice. She took a moment to relax, then asked, "What about you? You just started a week ago, what got you on their radar so quick?"

Jane was surprised for a moment that Daria knew when she moved here, then realized that they might have some classes together and she just hadn't realized it. Daria was the type to fade into the background and not be noticed. It seemed like she wanted it that way. With a grin, Jane answered, "A coloring book."

Daria's face registered surprise. "A coloring book? Aren't you a little old for that?"

"Tell that to my grandma," Jane griped.

"So you had a coloring book, how exactly does that land you here?"

Jane eyed the object in question, which was sitting on the edge of the secretary's desk. The secretary was busy reading some cheesy romance novel with a shirtless guy on the cover. "It'll be easier to show you," Jane whispered. Carefully, she crossed the few steps to the desk and grabbed the book, quickly dashing back to her seat and handing it to a confused Daria.

Daria flipped through the books pages and had to stifle a laugh. Jane, having reseated herself, looked over Daria's shoulder. Gaston from _Beauty and the Beast_ was dressed as a woman, primping in front of a mirror where he saw himself as one. "Ah, you found Gaston. Turn a few more and you'll see what they're really 'concerned' about."

Turning a few more pages, Daria found what Jane was referring to. Rapunzel was in a rather risqué outfit with her male lead tied down and surrounded by bondage paraphernalia. "Okay, yeah. I can see how this could get you sent to counseling."

Jane took a bow with a dramatic flourish. "Thank you. Thank you. You're too kind."

Daria kept looking through the book, much of which Jane had already finished 'coloring'. Jane watched her, praising herself when the quiet girl made a face or had to stifle a laugh. After a while, Daria put down the book and turned to Jane. "You're a really good artist."

Jane blushed. "Um, thanks. I could show you my real stuff some time if you want. I _do_ work in non-Disney related mediums."

Daria hesitated and looked down. Jane was afraid she'd pushed too hard, when Daria looked up and timidly said, "Um, yeah. We could do that sometime." In a more confident voice she added, "You've got to let me borrow this though." She held up the coloring book with a creepy smile. "My little sister _loves_ Disney."

 


	5. Freer Days

8/22/15. This comes from a challenge by nightmaster000 entitled "Daria daughter of ?" concerning Daria's true parentage.

* * *

 The Morgendorffer living room was filled with more tension than Daria had felt in a long time. Her parents had called Quinn and her down after returning from a parents’ night at the school. To her left, Quinn was tapping her foot impatiently with her hands crossed over her chest, upset over having been pulled off of the phone. Across from them, Jake and Helen were acting strangely. Their father seemed to want to be anywhere else, clutching his third martini with both hands like a security blanket. Their mother was even stranger, her features colored with guilt, an emotion Daria had previously doubted the workaholic lawyer could still express. No one was speaking.

Quinn broke the silence, "So, like what did you want? Because that was a really important call."

Daria passed on the chance to take a shot at her sister, too busy trying to figure out what was going on with her parents.

Helen seemed startled out of her own thoughts by Quinn's question. "Oh, yes. Well girls, we met some of your teachers tonight and... there's something we need to discuss with you."

"We want you to understand, this doesn't change anything. We're still your-" Jake chimed in, only to be cut off.

"Not _yet_ Jake," Helen snapped, followed by a sigh. "Look, girls, you know your father and I lived a _freer_ lifestyle in our youth."

"You mean you were hippies," Daria clarified.

Quinn blanched. "This isn't about tie-dye is it. That retro look is so uncool."

Ignoring her daughters, Helen continued, "In those days relationships were more open than they are now."

"Stupid conformist, religious stereotypes! You can't tell me who to love! You hear me Dad!" Jake yelled at the ceiling, spilling his drink as he waved his fist.

"Jake, focus!" Helen yelled, harsher than she usually would. Jake shrunk into himself and poured himself another drink. With another sigh, Helen turned back to the girls and picked up where she left off, "We had other lovers, and we ran into some of them tonight."

"Ew! You had sex with our teachers!" Quinn shouted.

Daria willed away the mental images, focusing on what her mother had said. "Wait, teachers plural. Did you have some kind of fetish for education majors?"

"Actually, Claire was an art major. The things she could do with a paintbrush..." Jake said distantly. Helen seemed to drift off a bit herself, a blush tinging her cheeks red.

"Shut up!" Quinn cried, covering her ears and shutting her eyes. The shout snapped both adults back to the present, embarrassed looks on their faces.

Daria shivered. "Well at least you have good taste, she's one of the few sane teachers at Lawndale. Look, as healthy a bonding moment learning your sexual history is, I can't help but think there's another reason you're telling us all this."

Helen and Jake looked at each other for a moment and the back at the girls. Helen said, "Well you see girls, like I said before, things were freer back then and people didn't always take all the precautions they should."

Daria's jaw dropped. "Wait, you're not saying... Ms. Defoe's our... mom?" Daria's voice broke on the last word.

Helen nodded, tearing up. "Yes, well technically she's Quinn's birth mother. Quinn, you'll always be my baby."

Quinn balled her fists and pounded the couch. "This isn't fair! Daria's the older one, shouldn't she be the weird hippie baby with two moms?"

Helen and Jake looked at each other again.

"What?" Daria asked bluntly, not sure what to expect, but eager to get it over with.

Jake leaned forward. "Well, y'see kiddo, I'm not your birth dad."

"Hah!" Quinn cried in satisfaction. "I'm not the only... only... oh god I'm a freak!" She tried to add, before running upstairs in tears, Helen right behind her trying to comfort her.

After a lengthy pause Daria asked, "So, who is it?"

Jake lit up, "Oh, right! It was my old buddy Tim. Great guy, real sensitive." He noticed Daria sag limply into the couch and started to panic. "Daria? Daria! What's wrong?"

Head tilted back, staring at the ceiling Daria numbly said, "I think I just realized my actuality."


	6. A Man Among Men

8/25/15. Another challenge from nightmaster000. This one asked for one character to have a crush on another.

* * *

Janet hated school dances. They were just excuses for those filthy _men_ to grind all over those poor innocent girls. She was scanning over the packed gym from her post next to the punch, she had to make sure no _men_ tried to spike it, when she saw him. She groaned inwardly. Why did he have to be the other chaperon?

He was such a _man_. Loud. Violent. Forceful. Strong. Confident. Handsome. Janet shook her head, trying to shake the thoughts loose. He always did this to her, drew her in with his manly tricks. _So manly_. She looked away, down at the punch.

She didn't need him, she had Tim. Tim was the perfect man. He was weak and controllable and sensitive and safe and- Oh who was she kidding, he was a wimp. She only kept him around to relive her frustrations. She'd never be as satisfied as she would be with him, not that she'd ever let _that_ happen. He was a dirty _man_ , and she knew how that would end, she'd been through it before.

"ExCUSE me, Ms. Barch, are you alright? Your face appears rather flushed."

Janet's head snapped up, her face growing red enough to match the punch she had been staring at. "I'm fine! Why don't you stop staring at my face and keep your eyes on those filthy _men_ molesting the girls on the dance floor!"

"Very well, I was merely conCERNED that I might be left to watch over these mindless bags of HORMONES by myself," Anthony replied, sounding a bit offended, but maintaining a professional manner. He seemed to spot something and said, "If you'll excuse me, I've got to go stop our star quarterback and head cheerleader from conceiving a child that would enter high school before my retirement."

Janet's eyes trailed him as he stalked off, taking in his surprisingly fit frame. It would never work, but it would be one hell of a ride.

 


	7. Barrier

8/27/15. More from nightmaster000's Secret Admirer challenge.

* * *

She's just on the other side of the glass. So beautiful. Long brown hair, with just the right bounce. A perfect nose and pouty lips set beneath two deep brown eyes that I could swim in. Everyone else only notices the scowl and the harsh words. If they saw her like this, as close as I do, then they would know that she was perfect.

I wish I could reach out and touch her, hold her tightly in my arms and never let go. To stroke that hair as I captured those lips with my own would be heaven itself. But I can never do that. I can never break through this barrier that divides us.

Cruel fate has decided that we can never touch, never truly be together, but I will always long for her. There is no other man or woman who can match her beauty, grace, and intelligence. Everything is beneath her splendor.

One last fleeting glimpse through the glass, then I turn to face the outside world and all the inferior people that populate it. My hand lingers on the barrier, not wanting to leave her. The door opens and someone enters. It's the redhead, the one they all think is so cute. Idiots, she's nothing next to my love.

She turns to me and, in a whiny voice my goddess would never use, screeches, "Ew, gross! Sandi, you're touching the school bathroom's mirror."

 


	8. Silent Grave

9/4/15. This is from an challenge I set up. The idea was to put together a scene with no dialogue or internal monologue, like a silent movie.

* * *

An auburn haired woman handed a cabbie her fare and climbed out into the chill autumn evening. A strong wind whipped around her tan longcoat, revealing the black slacks and dress shirt underneath. Turning around, she looked over the rows of tombstones and monuments to the dead, her face expressionless behind her large glasses. She pulled open the tasteful wrought iron gate and calmly entered the small graveyard.

She walked at a steady pace, neither the slow pace of someone trying to find a specific grave nor the hurried pace of someone uncomfortable with the dead. She came to a stop in front of a modest but well cared for grave. She stared down at the words carved into the stone, regret replacing her emotionless mask for just a moment.

_Jane Lane,  
artist, sister, friend_

A gangly dark haired young man with a sloppy goatee made his way through the graveyard in a daze, almost straying from the path several times. He wore a wrinkled suit that looked like it had been worn for at least a day and clutched a cheap bouquet in one hand. As he neared the grave, he snapped out of his daze and stalked up to the woman standing at it.

He reached for the woman's shoulder and she calmly turned and looked up at him, expressionless again. He recoiled when he saw who it was. When the shock wore off, he began to yell and gesticulate madly, the bouquet falling apart as he flailed his arms.

The woman stood silently for a moment, saying nothing as he wore himself out, then checked the expensive looking watch on her wrist. Nodding, she reached into her coat and pulled out a large revolver. The man recoiled in fear, looking from the gun to the short woman holding it.

The woman leveled the gun at the grave, and, as she did, the dirt began to move. First one, then another pale arm pressed up through the ground. The man fell backwards and started to back away, shaking his head in denial. The arms pressed down, pulling up a rotting torso and dark haired head. With another brief flash of remorse, the woman pulled her trigger and the head disappeared in a crack of thunder.

She placed the revolver back in her coat, then pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a metal lighter. She tapped out two cigarettes, lighting both and holding one out to the man lying prone on the ground. He stared up at her, and with a shaky hand took the cigarette. They stayed there for a while, the smoke from their cigarettes disappearing into the late autumn wind.

As the sun started to set, the woman let her cigarette drop and ground it out with her boot. She offered a hand to the man. He took it and stood, still in shock. She pulled him into a lingering hug, as she pulled away she asked him something. He nodded and she took his hand, leading him out of the graveyard.

 


	9. Stunt

9/15/2015. Just a stray idea.

* * *

Quinn hummed happily as the elevator climbed up to her floor. She'd taken off work early so she could get her apartment ready. Her mom was flying in to visit for the weekend and she wanted everything to look good, which meant cleaning up Stacy's mess.

She still couldn't believe how much of a slob her friend could be. It still wasn't as weird as her profession though. Quinn had almost lost it when Stacy dropped out the second semester of their sophomore year and started all that car stuff. She made it work though, right now she was one of the top stunt drivers in the industry.

Before Quinn even opened the front door she could heard the thumping of an overworked bass. The neighbors were going to complain again. At least Stacy was home to help clean up her mess. Quinn pushed open the front door and stalked through the living room towards her friend's room, noting the addition of a drained bottle of _her_ wine to the perpetual mess.

She didn't even bother with knocking, Stacy never heard anything over her music. She quickly regretted her decision when she found her friend topless with her lower body, and what looked like another person, thankfully covered by the sheets.

"Eep!" Stacy cried, covering herself up.

"Stacy, we have a system," Quinn yelled over the thumping music, "Put something, _anything_ , on your doorknob. It's not like you don't have enough clothes lying around."

"Sorry, Quinn," Stacy said, cowed but also strangely nervous.

"And get whoever that—" Quinn jabbed a finger at her roommate's latest lover "—is out of here. My mom will be here in a couple of hours and I'd rather not have to introduce her to your latest one night— Er, afternoon stand."

"Um, that might be a problem."

"And why is that?" Quinn asked, putting her hands on her hips and glaring at her friend.

"Um, well, you see…" Stacy seemed on the verge of one of the breakdowns she used to have in high school.

With a sigh, the lump lying next to Stacy worked its head out from under the sheets. Quinn's jaw dropped as her mother's head appeared besides Stacy's at the top of the bed.

"Mom!"

"Hi sweetie," Helen said, somewhat awkwardly.

"What are you doing in bed with my best friend!?" Quinn screamed. Turning to face Stacy again, she continued, "And what are _you_ doing in bed with _my mom_!?"

Stacy pulled the covers over her head as Helen tried to explain. "Well, you remember what I said when we had that talk when you were in high school. There's just something about a stunt driver…"


	10. Christmas Morning

11/1/15. From ST91’s challenge concerning Amy and her family.

* * *

Amy nibbled on a cookie and took a sip of milk as she watched her husband struggle to carry in the pile of Christmas gifts for their children. "Greg, are you sure you don't need any help?" she whispered, careful not to wake their boys.

"I've got it," he said, almost dropping a package.

Amy set down the food Sam and Alec had left for Santa and hurried over, taking half the presents and setting them down by the tree. "Honestly, you're so stubborn sometimes."

Greg put down his half of the load and sat down next to the tree. Smiling, he replied, "This coming from the woman who just risked her job to get her niece's best friend's paintings into a show."

"It was hardly a risk, Jane's got real talent."

Greg pulled Amy down next to him and gave her a short kiss. "That's what I love about you, you never even consider backing down."

"So we're agreed? Stubbornness looks great on me and silly on you."

Greg bowed his head playfully. "As always, you win."

"I'm glad you understand our arrangement. Now, let's get these gifts put away and try to get some sleep before the boys wake us up at the crack of dawn to tear the paper off," Amy said and began pushing presents under the tree.

"Are you sure we didn't get them too much?" Greg said, looking over the packages. "I don't want to spoil them."

Amy shook her head and grinned. "A little late for that isn't it? Don't worry, I was an Aunt Amy at Christmases for both Helen and Rita's kids. This is nothing. Besides, I know you're going to be spending as much time on those video games as they are."

Greg tried to look shocked. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Uh-huh," Amy said sarcastically, as she put away the last of the presents that would fit under the tree. She stood up and grabbed another cookie, before starting towards their bedroom. "C'mon Santa, you know I get cold sleeping alone."

Amy sat on her couch, wrapped in a blanket and nursing her third cup of coffee. She'd been wrong, Sam and Alec hadn't waited for dawn at all. She didn't mind though. Seeing her boys unwrap their gifts and show them to her, telling her all about them and showing her what they did, was priceless. Greg was just a big kid himself, on the floor playing with the boys. She still couldn't figure out where he got that energy, but she loved him for it. She had a supportive, loving husband, with a great sense of humor and two brilliant young boys. Things weren't perfect, she knew they never were, but they felt pretty close this morning.

 


	11. Too Nice

11/24/15.

* * *

"You're sure you don't want to come over to my house and get the answers?" Jane asked as she and her new friend turned onto Glen Oaks Lane.

Daria shook her head. "I doubt it'll be a problem." Spotting a familiar red SUV in the drive, she added, "Weird, mom's home. Look, try not to get too freaked out okay?"

"Mommy doesn't like her misfit daughter I take it? If you want I can take off and we can just hang out later."

Daria shook her head. "No, it's fine. She can just be a little… aggressive sometimes."

"What, you're saying I should have brought my pepper spray?"

"Just—" Daria sighed. "You'll see." With that she pulled open the front door.

Before the door had closed behind them, an attractive middle aged woman wearing an apron reading 'World's Best Mom' had closed in on them and trapped Daria in a bear hug. "Sweetie! How was your first day at school?"

"Gah! Mom, personal space!" Daria gasped.

Helen stepped back, keeping a hand on her daughter's arm. "Sorry sweetie, I'm just so happy to see you." She shifted her attention to Jane, who took an involuntary step back. "And who's this?"

Daria noticed the deer in the headlights look on her friends face and answered. "This is Jane, we're in self-esteem class together."

"Well it's a pleasure to meet you Jane," Helen said, smiling warmly, "You two come on into the kitchen, there's cookies on the table."

Jane sniffed at the air hungrily as Helen led them to the kitchen. "Are those _fresh baked_ cookies, Mrs. M?"

"Of course!" Helen cried, as if anything less would have been criminal. After the three were seated, each with a freshly poured glass of milk in front of her, Helen asked, "So what's this you were saying about a self-esteem class?"

"The school councilor decided I have low self-esteem."

Helen slammed a hand down on the table, shaking the plates. "That's ridiculous. You're a beautiful, intelligent young woman who knows exactly who she is. Low self-esteem!"

Daria reluctantly put a comforting hand on her mother's arm. "I'm sure it was just a mistake Mom."

"Well they'll be hearing from me tomorrow, in person."

"Speaking of times you should be at work, why are you home now?" Daria asked.

"It's my little girls' first day at a new school! Of course I took a little time off to be here to celebrate it with you. You know you're more important than work to me. What's the point of working to support my family if I don't get to see them? Speaking of family, have you seen your sister?"

"You mean cousin?" Jane said, between mouthfuls of chocolate chip cookies.

Helen heaved a long sigh and looked at Daria. "Daria, is your sister pretending you're not related again?"

"Can we not make a big deal out of this?"

"You know very well that we can not. I'm going to have to talk to her about her dating privileges when she gets home."

"Can we go now? I wanted to watch some TV with Jane."

"Oh fine, you girls go have fun," Helen said with a smile.

Jane looked longingly at the cookies as she got up.

"Take them with you," Helen said, "Quinn's not getting any."

 


	12. A Long Sleeve Day

1/31/16.

* * *

Too much. It was just too much. She always screwed everything up. She tried. She tried _so_ hard, but she always messed something up. It was like there was too much inside her. Too many thoughts, too much to remember. No one understood. Even with all the things inside her, she couldn't think of the words to make them understand. It was so frustrating. Her head was buzzing, her ears were ringing, she couldn't _think_. She had to get some of it out, to get some release.

She hesitantly pushed the blade against her arm. It didn't cut right away, the skin dimpling against the foreign object. Then it broke. There was a small, wonderful, prick of pain as a drop of warm blood bloomed from the wound. She let out a slow sigh as she dragged the razor across her pale arm, pain and warmth and release following it. Her entire body relaxed, all the stress flowing out of her as she repeated the process a second time and a third.

After a few minutes of bliss, an all too familiar panic crept back into her mind and she got to work cleaning up. She sighed as she watched the red of her blood wash down the white sink. She knew this wouldn't end well. Someone would eventually find out, if something worse didn't happen first, but it was all she had. There just wasn't any other way to deal with everything, _everyone_. For now, all she could do was hope she didn't need to do it too much. Hopefully summer wouldn't be too bad; it was hard enough finding fashionable long sleeve spring clothes.


	13. Strange Reaction

2/7/16. Written for JoeMerl's Random Pairing Challenge 2016. I picked two random characters and got Jane and Artie.

* * *

Artemis Walker watched from the bushes as a rusted sedan pulled into the small forest clearing. He'd been tracking this one for weeks; three girls, all found dead from dehydration in these woods. The town had started making public service announcements about camping safety, but Artie knew what had really killed those girls, and it wasn't forgetting to bring enough water.

Once the car stopped, a young woman climbed out of the passenger seat. She was a striking beauty, pale skin and hair as dark as the night sky. Her looks weren't what shook him though; he'd met her before, on a bad tip from an ex-informant. It had cost him a job, but dinner with her and her interesting friend had been worth it, even though he had to put on the nut job act the whole time.

Artie's mind shifted back to business when the other occupant of the car climbed out. The young man looked completely ordinary, bland even; brown hair, average height, he was even wearing unremarkable clothes. Clever really, it was a great way to blend in. He laid out a blanket and beckoned the young woman to join him.

Artie raised his weapon and took aim, careful not to make too much noise. He hated the waiting. Watching that thing cuddle up against such a beautiful woman made him sick, but if he took his shot too soon it would look like he'd just shot some idiot teenager and she'd freak out and call the police.

Finally, the young couple got down to what teenagers come out to the woods to do, only, as things progressed, the man started to change. His skin greyed and his features twisted into an inhuman mask, long needlelike protrusions spouting from the palms of his hands. His partner pulled back in horror and Artie took his shot. It was clean, the bullet passed through the head and luckily none of the mess got on the young woman.

Artie left his hiding place and walked over to the body, firing a couple more shots into it. When he was sure it was dead, he turned to the woman. "Are you all right?"

The woman looked up from the corpse and stared at Artie for a moment, tilting her head and squinting her eyes. "Aren't you the pizza guy?"

Artie was surprised that she remembered him, but more surprised that she wasn't freaking out. "That's your first question? Not 'What the hell's going on?' or 'What did you do to my boyfriend?'" he asked, incredulously.

The woman shrugged then stood up and brushed herself off. "Eh, things weren't going that well and my best friend hated him. This saves me the trouble." She paused and cocked her head. "That, or I'm in shock." She offered her hand and introduced herself, "Jane Lane."

Artie gave Jane a disbelieving look. He'd seen shock, but he'd never seen anyone react this way before. Transferring his rifle to his left hand, he shook Jane's hand and said, "Artie."

Jane looked Artie up and down admiringly. Looking him in the eyes, she smirked and said, "You know, it's funny. I remember you a lot more squeaky voiced and hunched over and a lot less smooth special ops."

Artie hoped Jane couldn't see him blushing in the dark. "Cover. Part of the job," he explained. He looked away from her sky blue eyes and dug a card out of his pocket, handing it to her.

"Artemis Walker, Sick Sad World Fact Checker," Jane read aloud. "Does this mean I'm gonna be on TV?"

"Not unless you want to claim you got stood up at the altar by Bigfoot's cousin. Most of the stuff on the TV show is fake. It keeps people from panicking when they hear about things like this," Artie explained, gesturing to the body.

"Oh, I get it. People don't get freaked out when they hear about aliens, because they saw a show on 'Alien Love Goddesses' and know it's all fake?" Jane asked leadingly, raising an eyebrow.

"That…" He sighed. "I have to do appearances occasionally so people don't get suspicious when I go around asking about weird stuff. I was telling a buddy of mine on the show about a couple of cute girls I met and he threw it in. Sorry."

Jane smirked. "So you think I'm cute."

Artie was pretty sure she could see him blushing now. He was terrible at things like this. "Well… yeah."

"Tell you what, Artemis. My date's kinda shot—" she looked down at her former boyfriend "—literally. You want to go get something to eat?"

 


	14. Sew Wrong

3/22/19. Written for Szcz's "The another Lane vocation" challenge on the PPMB.

* * *

Quinn was hesitant as she followed the pigtailed girl up the stairs, beginning to wonder if it had been the wrong decision to turn down the Pep Squad. The house was pretty beat up and seemed like a weird place to hold a meeting for a Fashion Club. When they reached their destination, she took the room in critically. It looked much nicer than the rest of the house, well, half of it did. On the left side of the room there was a nice bed, a vanity, and several cushions on the floor, currently occupied by what Quinn guessed was the rest of the fashion club. In stark contrast, the right side of the room was covered in a jumble of fabric and discarded garments, a sewing machine and a couple of dress mannequins standing above the mess.

Before she could say anything, the brunette that first recruited her stood up and said, "Alright. Quinn, was it? As this is your first official meeting of the Fashion Club, allow me to formally introduce you to the other members and explain their positions. First, I am Sandi Griffin the—"

An older girl with short, dark hair interrupted, "Geeze, Sandi, give it a rest with that protocol stuff. I just got Stacy to relax, don't scare off the new girl." Sandi looked like she wanted to argue, but just sat down and pouted. The older girl stood up and walked over to Quinn, circling her and looking her up and down. Stroking her chin, she nodded and said, "Very cute, I can definitely work with this." She grinned and offered her hand. "Jane Lane, president of the Fashion Club and the talent behind the cutest clothes Lawndale High has ever seen."

 


	15. Release

3/30/16. This was written in response to GlitterShrooms' "A Scene and Its Song" challenge on the PPMB.

* * *

Stacy grimaced slightly as she tipped back her bottle and took a long drink. She hated beer. Well, she hated the beer she was able to get anyway; high school parties and bad clubs didn't exactly serve the good stuff. Technically, she wasn't supposed to be drinking, and not just because she was only seventeen. The anxiety meds that had made her life more bearable the last few months didn't exactly mix well with alcohol, or rather, they mixed _really_ well and her doctor said it was dangerous. Quinn and Sandi had watched her like hawks since they found out, but they weren't here tonight.

Sometimes Stacy just needed a night out to herself. The meds helped a lot, they'd let her stand up to Sandi and become real friends with her over the summer, but they weren't perfect. Sometimes things built up and she just needed a little more, a release.

The Zōn wasn't exactly a chic club, but it was close and somewhere she wouldn't run into anyone she knew. Some lame band that Stacy was pretty sure had only gotten the gig because of the cute shirtless guitarist had finished a few minutes ago, which meant the good music was about to start playing again.

*"Rage" by Technoboy starts playing*

Stacy's head started moving to the beat first. She sat for a moment, feeling the tension drain from her body as the song started to pick up. Music like this was almost as good as her meds and the beer; it loosened her up and made her feel free. Eventually, the song really got going and she stood up and made her way onto the floor. People turned and looked at her as she brushed past them, several young men's eyes lingering. Her skin flushed, but from excitement rather than the embarrassment she would have felt in the past; the mix of drugs, alcohol, and music had her feeling open and ready for anything. Reveling in her lack of inhibition, Stacy threw herself into the densest part of the crowd and let herself go. The contact as she bounced off the other club-goers was bliss, and the night quickly blurred into a stress-free haze of music and sensation.

 


	16. Jane on Wind

4/1/16. Written for my "Thoughts on Things" challenge on the PPMB.

* * *

Wind is strange. Sure, if you walk straight into it you look like some kind of badass from the movies, but come at it from any other angle and you get a face full of hair. That's part of why I like running. When you're running, you're always going straight into the wind. You can feel it flowing around you, cooling your body. It makes you want to keep running, to not stop until you're clutching your knees and panting, legs on fire. Then it's blowing the wrong way again, out of control until you recover and make it yours for a few more minutes.


	17. Tiffany on Food

4/4/16. Also for the "Thoughts on Things" challenge.

* * *

Food is hard. It tastes really good. Desserts are the best; cake and pie and those little tiny cupcakes that you try to eat one of, but then you can't stop and the whole tray's gone. Breakfast is good too; bacon, eggs, pancakes. Hey, pancakes are like breakfast dessert. So, I love food, but it makes you fat. Being fat is bad. You don't fit into any cute clothes and everybody hates you. It's not okay to be fat. Not eating is hard though; I wish they made a food that tasted as good coming up as it did when you ate it.


	18. Trent on Sleep

4/29/16. Also for the "Thoughts on Things" challenge.

* * *

Sleep is a lot like my girlfriend, Monique. At first it's great. Everything feels good and I can't get enough. Then it starts to get clingy. It makes me give up other stuff, but it still feels so good I don't want to give it up. Eventually, it even comes when I don't want it to. I spend all my time sleeping. Janey starts getting mad because I miss stuff and eventually even the guys start getting mad. So I try to stop sleeping so much, but it never lasts; it just feels too good. I always go back, just like Monique.


	19. Close

8/25/16. Writen for Vukodlak's "Daria and Quinn Roommates" challenge.

* * *

Daria lay back on her bed reading as she took advantage of the opportunity to listen to her music from her stereo rather than on her headphones. She and Quinn had made an agreement to always use headphones when they were both in the room after their competing stereos had given their father a panic attack. They were coming to a lot of those agreements lately. Daria had dreaded sharing a room with her sister, but, after an initial period of adjustment, things were surprisingly tolerable.

There was a knock on the door, another agreement, and Daria turned down the music and called out, "Who is it?"

Quinn's impatient voice came through the door, "Come on, Daria. You know Mom and Dad are never home this early."

"Sorry, I thought Dad might have lost another client and wanted to talk about it," Daria said, turning her stereo down the rest of the way. "Come on in."

Permission granted, Quinn opened the door and walked over to their shared computer, turning it on. As it started up, she said, "God, I hope not. My shopping budget is tiny enough as it is. I can't imagine what Sandi would say if it got any smaller. She might kick me out of the fashion club."

Daria held her tongue about what she thought of Quinn's "friend" and her little club, no reason to start a fight. As she plugged in her headphones, she instead asked the routine question, "How was school?"

Quinn spun around in the desk chair to face her sister. "You know; another day, another date. Rodney asked me out; he runs track."

Daria shook her head. "Don't you ever get tired of dating all those random guys?"

Quinn folded her arms and pouted. "Ugh. They're not random. There's a very sophisticated screening process. Besides, what do you want me to do, stay cooped up in here with you all the time?"

"Point ceded," Daria said, holding up her hands. She had to admit that she did like the alone time her sister's dates provided.

"Good," Quinn said with a smirk. "Oh! I got an A on that paper for Mr. O'Neill's class. Thanks, I couldn't have done it without you."

Daria shrugged and said, "It's your paper, I just gave you a little advice. You're not an idiot, even if you act like one most of the time." It had surprised Daria the first time Quinn had come to her asking for help with schoolwork, but now it was almost common. Now that they were nominally getting along, things like that were becoming the norm. It was nice actually having a sister and not a bitter enemy, even if she was a brat.

"Well, thanks anyway," Quinn said, and spun back to face the computer and her web of social networks.

Daria shook her head and allowed herself a small smile as she pulled on her headphones and went back to her book.


End file.
